A/N: This is still Sanguine Ink's fault for suggesting I use Mackie again. I wrote the second chapter because of that, but it wasn't actiony enough for my taste, and I had it kicking around in my head that I should write one more story with him. Around the time A Good Man Goes to War aired (warning, spoilers), I started writing this. I ran across it recently in my "unfinished" file, and decided to finish it off.
It's five years later before they meet again, by Mackie's reckoning, at least. It's by accident again- they nearly walk into each other at a street fair.
"Jack?" McKenney says, surprised.
"Mackie!" Jack says. He smiles, and pulls McKenney into his arms. It's a big difference from the last time they spoke, and that's good.
After a moment, McKenney works himself free from the hug. "How've you been?" He asks. He doesn't reference whatever it was that had been killing the man the last time they spoke; doesn't ask questions about the impossible nonsense he'd been spouting in his drunkenness.
"Well enough," Jack says, grinning. "Buy you a drink?" he offers.
"Water," McKenney tells him, "I'm off the booze. But, yeah."
Later, in the bar, Jack orders them both soft drinks. McKenney wants to tell him that it's fine, Jack can drink if he wants to, McKenney's been sober long enough now that it doesn't matter. Then it occurs to him that maybe Jack's on the wagon for the same reasons he is, and he leaves it alone. They talk, and they hardly mention the Arena. Jack talks about his work, his team. McKenney talks about this woman he met a little while ago, and his improbable job in the finance districts.
It's about two hours into the conversation, and they're relaxing into it, and McKenney's starting to wonder whether Jack's going to invite him to go somewhere a little more private, and he's trying to decide what his answer will be, and then there's a funny-sounding noise from somewhere in the distance. Jack tenses up immediately, and there's this flash of hunger in his eyes. He's on his feet immediately, moving toward the noise. McKenney follows him into the back room of the bar. For no reason that is immediately obvious to McKenney, there's a big blue box there. He frowns, because the damned thing looks familiar. He thinks back to the Arena, and he remembers seeing a flash of something just that color-
The door opens. A tall, floppy-haired kid wearing a bow tie pokes his head out.
"Doctor," Jack says, and that's funny, because didn't he say that the "the Doctor" was the name of that skinny guy in the suit from the Arena?
"Jack!" the kid says, and steps out. He looks serious, his eyes dark. Then he seems to notice McKenney for the first time. His face breaks into a smile. "Is that Hollis McKenney?" he asks, and McKenney's getting hugged again. "Look at you!" the madman says, pulling back and grinning at him. "All... alive, and everything!"
"Doctor," Jack says, breaking in, "Did you come looking for me?"
The Doctor's face falls. "I'm gathering allies, Jack. Someone's trying to get to me through one of my companions, and I won't have it." There's something dangerous in his expression. Somehow McKenney knows that, different face or no, this is the same man he met eight years ago on the best and worst day of his life.
Jack's quiet for a moment. Then he smiles, his teeth sharp. "Sign me up," he says.
McKenney is about to say goodbye to the pair of them when Jack turns to him. "You in, Mackie?" he asks.
McKenney considers. "No more killing," he says, cautiously. "I'm done with that."
The Doctor grins so wide it looks like his face is going to split. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he says.
The ship is- well, what the ship is. Jack is at his elbow, and steadies him. "It's a time machine," he says. "Alien tech, pocket dimensions, bigger on the inside..."
As McKenney is getting his bearings, a tall guyin Roman armor walks into the room. He'd look like someone on his way to a costume party if his face wasn't washed in grief and rage and fear. McKenney's old instincts tell him that the sword at his side is real, and that this man knows how to use it.
Jack apparently doesn't see that, though- or doesn't care. "Ave Centurion," he says suggestively, and whistles.
The Roman looks startled. "Excuse me," he says, sounding bewildered. "What?"
"Don't start," the Doctor says, sweeping back into the room. "That's to Jack, not you, Rory. Rory, this is Jack. They call him Captain. Jack, this is Rory. They call him the Last Centurion, for obvious reasons." He breaks off and points at McKenney without looking at him. "That's Hollis McKenney, and I think they call him Mackie. We're meeting in the library as soon as I've collected a few more people." Then he sweeps out again.
"Rory, huh?" Jack says in the silence that follows the Doctor's exit. "Friend, or traveling companion?"
"Er-" says Rory, looking sort of uncertain and awkward. It spoils some of the effect of the outfit.
"I've traveled with him a few times," Jack offers, smiling. "Don't mind me, just making small talk."
"We've been traveling with him, yeah," Rory says, and his face goes dark. "Me and my wife. She's-" He breaks off, like he doesn't know what to say.
"Your wife," Jack says with new understanding. "That's what this is all about."
"Yeah," Rory says.
"The Last Centurion, huh?" Jack asks, and McKenney recognizes this as a deliberate change of subject.
"I'm a bit Roman," Rory says, and his hand rests on his sword like he takes comfort from it being there.
Rory's wife is named Amy. The Doctor flashes a picture of her up in front of the assembled crowd- red-headed and pretty. She's being held in a place called Devil's Run, and there's at least one army between the Doctor and her. They're discussing strategy, and the Doctor's moving people around like pieces on a chessboard. Rory stands next to the Doctor, quiet and imposing in his centurion's armor.
"If your sisters are going to teleport in," he tells a green-skinned woman named Vastra, "then we'll need to disable the jammer." He points at a map. "It's down in the lowest levels of the base. Someone will have to sneak in at the right moment and shut it down."
"Sounds dangerous," Jack says, grinning. "I'm in."
The Doctor looks up at him. "You'll need to make it through at least 6 levels, and you'll have about seven- maybe ten- minutes to do it in. Any more and they'll either find you or notice the jammer's down."
"We'll want a small team if we're going to have a hope of keeping the element of surprise," Jack points out. "One man would work." He smiles again.
"Two would be better," McKenney says.
Jack turns. "Are you sure?" he asks. "Like I said- dangerous."
McKenney shrugs. "It's been eight years since I did anything really dangerous. Wouldn't want to think I was getting rusty."
"Right," the Doctor says. "That's settled, then. What about the satellites orbiting the base?"
Jack strips down to a t-shirt and suspenders. He's wearing a holster under his coat, and McKenney recognizes the blaster hanging in it. Jack wears it comfortably, with the unselfconsciousness of long habit. McKenney's glad to know he made some kind of peace with that gun, and with whatever it meant to him.
Jack tosses him a uniform jacket. "I always did look good in uniform," he says, grinning. The uniforms look like familiar military camo, but the insignia are strange and the rank says "Cleric".
McKenney dresses. "You ready to play soldier?" he asks Jack.
"Play?" Jack widens his stance, straightens up, changes his bearing. His hair's military-short, and he suddenly looks exactly the part. "Captain Harkness reporting, sir!" He salutes, and then relaxes. "Were you ever in the service?" Jack asks.
McKenney shakes his head. "I was in a gang. Finally got caught lifting a car, and you know what happened after that."
Jack nods, shrugs. "We'll only be able to pass a basic inspection," he says. "We don't have time for a more complicated cover. Are you ready?" he says, suddenly serious.
McKenney nods. "We get as far as we can by looking like we've got someplace to be, and then we do whatever we have to to shut down that jammer."
Jack looks at him, seriously. "Mackie," he says, reaching out to touch McKenney's shoulder. "No playing hero. We watch each other's backs, but I don't want to see you trying to take any bullets for me, okay?"
"Let's go," McKenney says. "We have a job to do, right?"
They teleport in just outside the asteroid's jamming field. They're wearing jet packs and breath masks; not a full suit. It's a risk, because it means that they only have seconds to get inside the base before they freeze to death, but not having to take off a suit saves them at least a minute. There's the shock of displacement. Before the cold even hits them, Jack and McKenney are throttling the jet pack controls full out. They're headed for the entry hatch that they're praying will be where the plans said it was. Five seconds at full burn has them slamming into the hatch with more speed than is comfortable. Jack hits just to the side, but McKenney's right on. He reaches for the airlock controls, his fingers clumsy from the cold and the thick gloves he's got on. Three seconds to key the lock controls, and then he and Jack tumble into the chamber, shivering as the warm air floods in.
Jack shakes it off, and then starts stripping off his mask and pack. When he's done, he strips McKenney's too. McKenney's too cold to manage it himself in the time they've got. When the lock finishes cycling (63 seconds), Jack and McKenney exit the airlock cautiously. There's no one in the corridor. Jack turns, and keys the controls to flush their gear back out into space where it won't be noticed.
McKenney wants to run. There's a clock in the back of his mind, ticking down the seconds they've got left. There don't seem to be nearly enough, but running would look suspicious. He ignores the too-familiar adrenaline pumping through his system, and falls in line next to Jack. Jack walks medium-fast; purposeful, but not desperate. His face is schooled into an expression of intent. All his body language says "I'm busy, don't bother me." McKenney does his best to match.
McKenney's counting the corridors. He and Jack memorized the layout of the part of the base they've got to run through, but McKenney's paranoid they might have gotten turned around. He half wants to ask Jack whether he remembers, but asking would look suspicious, so he keeps that expression of bored purposefulness frozen on his face and continues walking. They pass two people on the way to the first passageway down. Neither one looks twice at Jack and McKenney.
There's an ID swipe on the door down. Without being asked, McKenney shifts position to block Jack from the view of someone coming around the corner. He counts 38 seconds, and then Jack's got it open. They slip inside, and McKenney notices that Jack's had to damage the lock getting in. Someone's going to notice that, eventually- McKenney hopes it won't be anytime in the next five minutes. They're in the stairwell then, and Jack's flying down the stairs. The gravity on the asteroid is slightly less than Earth-normal, and it lets them move faster than they could usually.
Two levels away from the target, everything goes pear-shaped. They turn a corner and come face to face with a pair of soldiers. "What are you doing down here?" one of them asks. "Let me see your authorization."
And then McKenney's moving, and it's like his brain doesn't even get a vote. It's been eight years since he was in a fight, but he didn't survive the Arena by thinking before he got in a fight. 6 seconds, and he has one of the guys down and Jack's grabbing his arms. "Mackie!" he's shouting, and suddenly McKenney realizes he was this close to killing the unconscious soldier. "Leave him," Jack says, when he realizes that Mackie's in control of himself again. Then they hear an alarm. Jack swears. "If they find us, it's all up," he says.
Which is true. If the base is put on alert, they'll just be waiting for the Doctor's people when they 'port in. "Go on," McKenney says, his voice low. "Finish the op. I'll hold them off." Maybe if they find McKenny, they won't be looking for Jack.
"Like hell," Jack says. "They'll send a team before they activate an all-alert. The Doctor only needs a few minutes once we get the jammer down. We disable the team quick enough, it'll take them at least five minutes to realize it. That should be enough time."
McKenney raises an eyebrow. "You and me against how many guys?"
Jack grins. "We're Arena vets," he says. "They haven't got a chance."
38 more seconds, and the team is on them. There are eight of them against him and Jack, and they all have to be disabled before a call can get out.
The adrenaline makes everything sharp, and McKenney is moving before he can think again. It feels good. He knows, suddenly, what the booze was replacing, and why it was so hard to quit. With some detached part of his mind, he thinks that he could be more addicted to this than he ever was to the alcohol. The rest of him is spinning, kicking, shoving men to the ground. Ripping comms apart, shoving their heads together. His knuckles are bleeding, and their blood spatters over his arms.
And then they're down- not all unconscious, but their comms are destroyed and none of them are getting up soon. It'll take them a while to report in, which is what they need. None of them are dead, McKenney thinks. No more faces to add to his list. He wasn't sure he could do this without killing. He's a little surprised, but pleased.
Jack is already running, and McKenney lopes along behind him, matching pace. One of the soldiers' swipe cards opens the next stairwell, and then Jack vaults over the railing. McKenney doesn't even think about it before he follows. They're only going two more levels down, and the lower gravity means that they don't fall as fast as they should. It's almost easy to hook the railing and swing into the right stairwell. McKenney guesses they've got maybe 90 seconds when they swipe the next door open.
Jack is going flat out now. McKenney is glad he kept in shape, or he'd never have kept up. Even so, McKenney's a step behind him. Which is good, because as Jack turns the corner, there's a hail of laser fire, and Jack drops. His eyes are empty. McKenney doesn't let himself hesitate. He shoulders Jack's body up in one smooth motion, holding it in front of him as a shield as he moves into the path of fire. The lasers fire again, but the blasts are absorbed by Jack's corpse. Distantly, McKenney thinks he should feel something about that, but he doesn't have time. Anyway, this is not the first time he's pulled this particular trick.
McKenney throws Jack's body into the men who are firing on him, and follows it with a full-body tackle into them. One of them is going for his comm, and McKenney rips it out. The implant comes away bloody. McKenney slams his head into the ground and throws another guy's laser down the hall. Now that he's in the middle of them, they can't fire on him without hitting each other, and that was their only advantage. None of them is a fighter in his class, and he takes them apart. Part of him is angry and hurt for Jack, but he still doesn't go for killing strikes. Death is forever, and these guys were just trying to do their jobs. Then they're down, and there's 30 seconds left to bring the jammer down in-window, and McKenney hears gasping behind him. He doesn't turn. Instead, he uses the guards' lasers to blast open the door.
This part isn't elegant. There's no computer code or shut-off sequence. McKenney just smashes and shoots and smashes. They won't be able to bring the jammer back online when he's done with it.
He hears footsteps behind him and whirls, weapon in his hands. Non-lethal shots, he reminds himself. No more faces to add to his nightmares.
But it's Jack. "Hey, Mackie," he says, grinning. "Nice job." McKenney gapes. Death is forever, he thinks, but apparently not for Jack. His clothes are scorched and holed, but the flesh underneath is clean.
While his brain is trying to sort that out, Jack grabs him and taps something into his wrist computer. There's a blink, and a twist, and they 'port out.
They land in the Doctor's ship. Jack's misjudged the relative grav position, and they fall about six inches, landing in a heap on the ground. Jack laughs. McKenney pushes him. "What the hell was that?" he asks, because Jack was dead. McKenney knows a corpse when he sees one, and anyway, even if he hadn't been dead then, he wouldn't have survived McKenney using him as a shield.
Jack laughs again. "Didn't I tell you?" he says, cocking his head at McKenney. "I can't ever die. I always get better."
And McKenney feels like an idiot, because he did tell McKenney that, but he didn't take it seriously. He didn't think Jack meant it. "You asshole," he tells Jack, and then punches him full-strength in the shoulder.
Jack just takes it, laughing, and picks himself up again. "You were pretty amazing back there," he says.
"You coming on to me?" McKenney asks, half-seriously.
"Do you want me to?" Jack asks, grinning. "C'mon," he says. "The Doctor's busy right now, so I'll just grab a few things and we'll be off."
Then Jack's stripping off his uniform while he walks. He grabs his coat from the locker room, and McKenney follows him into a workshop. Jack breaks into a grin, and looks back at him. "Just what I needed," he says, and then he looks up at the ceiling. "Thanks, darling," Jack says, "He can be so unreasonable," and McKenney is pretty sure Jack's not talking to him.
Jack fiddles with his wrist computer long enough for McKenney to change out of the uniform he was wearing. He feels better with his own clothes back on. He looks at the torn skin of his knuckles.
"You need help with that?" Jack asks. "There's a tissue regenerator around here somewhere."
McKenney shakes his head. "It's fine," he says. The wounds will swell, and itch, and hurt like crazy. But it feels like cheating to just fix them. If he's going to go around hitting people, he should suffer the consequences.
Jack shrugs. "Let's get you home, then," he says. "Now that I've got this working again, no need to wait for the Doctor. Our part of the op is over."
"Don't you want to see whether she'll be okay?" McKenney asks. "Amy, her name was?"
Jack smiles. "Of course she'll be okay," he says. "The Doctor's coming for her."
There's an undercurrent of wistfulness there, and McKenney remembers Jack, drunk and despondent, snarling would have been nice if he'd bothered to show up.
Jack reaches out his hand, and McKenney takes it. There's a flash, and his stomach twists, and then they're back at the bar.
"Do I know how to take a guy out or what?" Jack asks, grinning.
It's surreal, being back. McKenney could almost believe that it was some kind of hallucination, except for his bruised and bloody knuckles.
They make their goodbyes slowly. Jack is a hell of a kisser, and McKenney almost regrets the woman who's waiting for him and her preference for monogamy.
And then Jack's sauntering off down the street, that coat flapping behind him. He's got all of time and space to travel in. McKenney doubts that he's ever going to run into him again. Still- "Sometime again," he calls. "And take care of yourself in the meantime, Harkness."
"Sometime again," Jack calls back, with a grin.